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The bitter knives of winter
Are grinding their flinty edges
Hidden discreetly in the folds
Clever and cunning
Finding all the cracks and crannies
Stabbing cold and deep
Into the scurrying masses.

Everyone becomes a dragon,
Smoking breath rising into blooms
Of flaming leaves rattling above
Crackling orange and yellow
Autumn dripping ashes and embers
Flicked from the fag end of November
In swirling arabesques.

I like to imagine the stories that chase them
Like mongrel dogs tipping at their heels
As I watch, cocooned in glass and steel
Adrift upon the early morning streets
Yet temporarily marooned,
Waiting for the next summons,
Listening to my mind weaving tall tales
To and audience of me.

I wish I was a character from a Tom Waits song
Rumpled and whiskey soaked
Populating seedy dives
With a billion stories tucked in the creases
Along with a battered postcard
Smeared with tear stained ink and a bloody thumbprint
Nothing but a busted suitcase
Full of rusty odds and ends
Spilling from a clanking calliope ribcage
Trailing smoke, wheezing into the bell
Of a dented trumpet
As I hold up a lamp post
Playing a broken fingered waltz
Out into the thick sticky fingered air
The stubbed out fag end of Saturday night
Tom cat howling to the moon riding tatter sail clouds
Pork pie hat low on shifty brow
Forgotten new years confetti spangling the brim
Another lost and broken
Street corner preacher
Fumbling out loose change
Or just fumbling with myself and hungry wolf grinning
At the corner girls gleaming like razor blades
Just as likely to cut as to kiss
Leave me bleeding out into my alligator shoes
One more Romeo
Fading out into the disreputable shifty eyed dawn.

Fevered imaginings stir
Cauldron bubbling technicolor
Adjust the vertical hold
Saturation bleed over abundance
Spilling torrents of pulp fiction
Long legged dames
Smoking gun lips
Hard boiled flint eyed
Fish hook fingered
Along side knights in tarnished armor
Rumpled trench coat
Wounded, weary
Still fighting ’cause the fight
Is all they know
Until you change the channel
Universal remote control shift
So now Sam Spade
Is a vampire slayer
Cagliostro now huckstering his way
Through “Let’s Make A Deal”
Dripping sequins and badly applied eyeliner
Rubbing the cat in the hat the wrong way
There can be only one direction
Which is everywhere at once
Paint splattered pinwheel
Sloppy primary coloring spindles
Bringing earthy dreams to
Maidens who need them
Sticky hot limbic night sweating
All brought on by a little prick
Applied in just the right spot
Chain smoking reaction
Here the mulberry bushes go round us
Tilt a whirling zoetrope
Streaming download mental architecture
Failure to accommodate your offense
Does not compute
This is virtually the only reality
Plural worlds multiply
Growing from my brainstem
All knotted baobab
Groaning bows let fall madness
The snozzberries are a lie
But they taste the best
When paired with a nice dandelion wine
From the October country
Vineyards twisting thoughts into dreams
Friday night lights sandwiched
Between layers of flesh and brocade
Rioting hordes rising up
Clamoring, one last shout
Multitudes living, fucking, killing
Just beneath the eggshell mask
Of my skin.

Standing before the gates
A pillar, a drawn sword, a wheel of flame
They trembled, naked, still just children
Lost, terrified by sudden unwanted knowing.

The birth of tragedy
They could but see only a short way
To the filling of their bellies
Shelter, solace in a sudden cruel world
Nothing further than the needs
Of their new, soft flesh.

I could see, for so it was given to me
All compassed within this earth
The befores and afters spreading
Along the paths their feet could tread
Laid bare to bone, open
Drawn apart as curtains upon a stage.

Their mouths would taste ashes
More often than mana
The hands if their unborn drip red
Generations feasting upon themselves
The locusts with scorpion stings
Buried deep in feet of clay
Because it is their nature.

The sky before my vision blackened
Bruising the brand new dawn
Only days from birth
Choked with grease and soot
Rendered flesh offered to The Name.

As they turned to go
Feet ragged from thorns
Their multitudes if children
Flaying the skin from their backs
Strangling each other with their cords
My vision blurred
Tears of flame burning upon my cheeks.

I have been alone before the gates
As is my purpose, the lock for which
There is no key, save his clemency
Yet I know, as surely as my tears still fall
There will be no mercy.

I became lost
Following the map of your skin
Trails followed endless twists and
turns
By lips and hands bent on discovering
All if the mysteries betwixt the folds
Of soaking bedclothes
And the fulsome plump furrow
A row urgent for the tilling.

I wrote a symphony
With your sighs and moans and
Sweet soft shudderings
Our bellies clasped
Breath tangled along with your hair
And my beard, fingers knotted at the knuckles
Bodies cat’s cradle of limbs
A portrait of abandon.

I was longing
An emblem of yearning with no surcease
A helpless groan carved in flesh
Until my own hands
Drew forth quivering sob
Relief without satisfaction
New milk spilt
Wanting only your tongue to taste.

Tears lost in rain
Voices drowned by white noise static
Constant flux wave
Signal to noise failing ratio
Faceless talking heads
Drone mumble meme fake plastic
Consuming the real and here and now
With reasonable facsimile
Bridging the uncanny valley
Blurring the edges
No more hard lines
With the machines dreaming for us
Silicone subsidized neuron synapse misfire
Phil dreamt of electric sheep
Who became flesh that dreams
Of what it’s told.

I can feel it slipping away
Feeble rapid beating
Warm between my hands
Vital struggling wings pinned
Beneath fingers loosing grasp
Unlaced and unclothed
Naked in the rain
Remembering all the moments
Before their gone
Adding up the sums
Creating monuments no one will see
Moving picture audience of one
Film reel slap ticking becomes
The beat if pale wings
Curtains fall down swish
End title card fading to black
Water gurgle whispers
“time to die”

emisformake
The blog of my sissy-poo and the person responsible for me creating my own blog…so you can all blame her and while you’re at it check out her fantastically insane levels of creativity and talent